


In Each Other's Eyes

by moboe



Series: Timed Love [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Excessive Cursing, F/M, First Date, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, aromantic!Charlie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:42:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3741259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moboe/pseuds/moboe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Continuation of Another Cliche)</p><p>After Dean and Cas meet, they begin to harvest their relationship into something that could become bigger than both of them. This is the story of their first date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Each Other's Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> As mentioned in the summary, this is a continuation of Another Cliche, which is here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/3691536 
> 
> It's very highly recommended that you read Another Cliche before you read In Each Other's Eyes. It will make much more sense if you do. :)

Dean hadn’t looked at the numbers on his wrist in weeks, and not even subconsciously did he recognize the date. He had stepped in the coffee shop, hoping to get a coffee jolted with enough caffeine to boost him through a day at Bobby’s auto shop, but ended up finding something that--he was loathe to admit--was even better.

 

Dean was never a romantic man. It had nothing to do with his sex drive and everything to do with the fact that he didn’t like getting attached. He didn’t necessarily dread the meeting of his Soul Mate, but he knew that, with all things considered, it would just be another day. Sure, he’d met girls and boys alike who could fantasize about their Meetings until the cows came home, and he could respect their viewpoint on life, but he just wasn’t about it. It had never seemed like that big of a deal, and he could only hope that his Soul Mate felt the same way.

 

They could take things slow. They could be friends at first, maybe never go much farther beyond that. More than a lover, Dean needed a companion, and if what his peers said was true, his Soul Mate would be exactly what he needed. Someone custom-made for him, that the stars knew would suit him. He wasn’t into that lovey-dovey crap. Dean just needed someone he could be honest with, and unload on sometimes.

 

One of his best friends--Charlie Bradbury--was aromantic, but despite that, she still had numbers on her wrist. She’d told Dean several times that she was positive that her Soul Mate wouldn’t hate her for being who she was, and would instead embrace it. She was determined that Soul Mates didn’t have to be of the romantic variety; and she’d read stories online that backed up her theory.

 

No matter how much Dean denied it, he’d cut off all ties to everyone but his little brother after his parents had died. He didn’t want to admit that something had broken him, and he was sure that romance just wasn’t his forte. (In truth, though, if he really thought about it, he would find that he had always been a romantic.)

 

He’d built walls to block out anything that could bring him back, but the moment he saw that tousled dark hair--caught a glimpse of those perfect baby blues... Emotions flooded over; he felt everything at once, and all he could do was blurt out his name. He needed the man in front of him to know who he was. Dean Winchester. Your Soul Mate. Cas looked up, and Dean could see he was feeling the same thing.

 

Dean had promised himself that he would not say something cheesy at the Meeting. He would be cool and collected, and he would shake the other person’s hand, and calmly say--

 

_Then, I’d like your number._

 

Dean, shut your mouth.

 

_And some of your time._

 

 _Dean!_ Shut _up_.

 

_Well. All of your time._

 

Oh, god.

 

He’s fucked it up. He’d definitely fucked it up. Inside, the little people working in his brain were freaking the hell out, screaming and running around and--

 

“Okay.”

 

Okay.

 

 _O-fucking-kay._ He said okay. The fucking angel in front of him just agreed! Holy shit. Holy shit. Alright, little people up there, get your shit together. Now it’s Dean’s turn to talk again. Fuck. _Don’t fuck it up, Winchester._

 

“Awesome.”

 

 _Awesome_? Didn’t he use that in his everyday speech enough?

 

Cas’ cheeks flushed, and he glanced down at the counter, pulling his lip between his teeth. _Adorable_. He glanced back up after a second, and then flushed even deeper, his eyes going wide.

 

“O-oh, god. Your coffee.” Without saying another word, he swiveled, rushing behind the counter and quickly pouring Dean a small black coffee, just like he’d ordered. Placing a lid on top, he set it back on the counter between them, wetting his lips and then warning, “It’s very hot.”

 

_Don’t say it. Don’t fucking say it._

 

“There are two things here that I can see are very hot.”

 

_You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me._

 

This time, Dean closed his eyes and let out a slow breath, flushing from his neck to his ears. “Cas, I’m gonna have to ask you to give me a minute, alright?”

 

Castiel nodded slowly and watched as Dean stepped back from the counter, flashing a great smile, and then turning and walking outside.

 

Despite the fact that the storefront was made of glass, he still yelled at himself.

 

“Why ya gotta be such a fuckin’ idiot, Winchester? How come you hafta fuck _everything_ up before it’s good? Shit, shit, shit. He probably already hates me. He’s my _Soul Mate_ , and he probably hates me. I’m a moron. I shouldn’t even go back in there. I should just… go. Yeah, that’d be good, right? ...Fuck, why am I asking you? You’re the one who made the decision to fuckin’ say, ‘ _There are two things here that I can see are very hot._ ’ I’m never takin’ any advice from you again, you goddamn--”

 

“Dean?”

 

The man in question turned with such force, he was almost knocked off-balance, and blanched when he saw Cas, in his little barista hat, with the cup of coffee.

 

The blue-eyed man took in a deep breath, seeming to think about his words, before carefully spitting out, “You forgot your coffee. And y-you don’t have to come back in, not if you don’t want to, but I just wanted you to know that _I_ want you to. I don’t hate you, and… I want to get to know you. We’re, uh, Soul Mates, after all, and…” He swallowed thickly, then dropped his head, looking down at the ground. “Just take the damn coffee,” he mumbled, shoving it in Dean’s direction.

 

Without hesitation, Dean took the cup, and Cas let his hands fall back at his sides, glancing up through his lashes. “Do you still want my number?”

 

***

 

Dean, of course, did in fact still want Castiel’s number, which led to many texting spars, which led to weekends hanging out, which eventually led to a date. A date. With Castiel Novak. Some people may think that the fact that someone is your Soul Mate would guarantee a good first (second, third, fourth, etc.) date, but that didn’t stop these two idiots from worrying.

 

Not to mention that good first dates don’t actually exist.

 

Castiel offered dinner, Dean thought a movie was more appropriate. They could walk around the park, but Dean was allergic to pollen, and it was springtime. Bowling? Castiel hated it. Museum? Dean said they were _bor_ -ing. The mall?

 

“Ew, gross,” Dean choked out, and Castiel scoffed. They were sitting on the couch in Castiel’s small apartment, Dean’s arm draped across the back of the couch, nearly touching Cas’ shoulders.

 

“What’s wrong with the mall?”

 

“Don’t you remember what _you_ were like as a teenager?”

 

“Oh. Yeah, ew.”

 

Dean nodded. “And that’s pretty much who goes to the mall. That, and old people.”

 

Cas sighed. “Yeah. I don’t like window shopping anyway. It just makes me aware of how little money I actually have.”

 

At that, Dean laughed, tapping Cas’ shoulder with his hand. “Hey, we agree on something.”

 

So it was settled. The most cliche of all cliche dates. Why not? After all, their relationship was founded on cliches. Dinner and a movie.

 

Their dinner was set at The Roadhouse, a locally-owned business that just happened to be owned by Dean’s aunt Ellen. She greeted them both on the way in, and Jo (her daughter) in the back rolled her eyes as her mother shouted, “ _Oh!_ Look at you two. I can remember when I met my Soul Mate.” She grinned and looked at Dean. “But just between me and you, Bobby was a lot less round around the middle then.”

 

Cas laughed a little and shook his head. “Well, it’s good to meet you, Mrs. Singer. And I can’t wait to try this bacon cheeseburger that Dean won’t stop talking about.”

 

“You’ll like it,” Dean reassured. “If you like burgers as much as you let on, you will definitely like it.”

 

They were seated in a booth in a corner, with enough empty tables around them to give them a little bit of privacy. Castiel was nervous, but Dean seemed very relaxed, sitting back in the booth and smiling over at the other man.

 

“What’s up, Cas?” he asked when he noticed Castiel fidgeting.

 

“Nothing, Dean,” he replied, looking out the window. 

“Hey, no. You have to talk to me.”

 

Castiel sighed and turned back to look at Dean, seeming a little perturbed. “Well, if you must know, I’m _nervous_. I don’t want to fuck this up. I know I’ve never heard of Soul Mates breaking up, but I just--I can’t be the first. Not with you.”

 

There was silence, and then Dean straightened in his seat, leaning forward. “You ain’t gonna fuck this up,” he replied softly. Castiel rolled his eyes in return, but Dean continued. “You wanna know how I know you ain’t gonna fuck this up?”

 

Again, there was silence, but eventually Castiel buckled. “How?”

 

“Because you caught me yellin’ at myself outside Gabe’s coffee shop, and you didn’t give up and go back inside. You didn’t say to yourself, ‘This guy’s crazy, and definitely not worth it.’”

 

A pause. “But you are worth it.”

 

Dean’s mouth opened, and then popped closed. “I… uh.”

 

They were both saved from an awkward moment by the waitress coming over--Jo, her nametag said, and Dean looked at her with a brotherly love. “What can I get for y’all?” she asked, order form in hand.

 

Dean glanced at Cas, then back at Jo. “I want a regular,” he answered.

 

“I would like a bacon cheeseburger with fries and an iced tea.”

 

Jo quickly wrote it down and smiled, beginning to walk away before stage whispering, “Save yourself and run from him,” to Castiel, earning a swat from Ellen.

 

They both piled into Dean’s car after they’d eaten, full of food and happy, and Dean glanced over at Cas, swallowing thickly. “Movie?” he asked, and Cas hummed, nodding. “Do you know what’s at the theater?”

 

Cas shook his head. “Nope. But I’m good with whatever you want to see.”

 

They ended up seeing an action flick with way too many gun-toting self-proclaimed “badasses,” and by the time it was over, Castiel was fuming and ranting about every misogynistic detail, while Dean was doubled over with laughter.

 

“Hey! It’s not funny! They were using women as props in that movie--nothing than a pair of breasts to stare at. Not to mention that it was the complete stereotype of gender roles. I’ll have you know I actually enjoy knitting, and and took personal offense to the remark that Billy Badass made in the scene with the woman who liked cats. I love cats!”

 

“Woah, woah, woah,” Dean gasped, reaching out and clapping a hand on Cas’ shoulder. “Slow down, buddy.” They were now outside, the light of the sun now hiding under the edge of the horizon.

 

“I’m just pissed that we spent our money on that trash.”

 

Once Dean’s breath calmed, he shook his head. “You’re so cute,” he murmured, and this time, he couldn’t find himself embarrassed, like he’d been before when they first met.

 

Castiel blushed furiously, and under the lights outside the theater, Dean could see his pink cheeks clearly.

 

Dean laughed softly, hand moving from Cas’ shoulder down to his wrist, then tentatively taking his hand. Cas remained blushing, but slowly linked their fingers together.

 

“Let’s go back to my place,” Cas murmured softly, then huffed out a breath. “I mean… I want to spend more time with you. Can we do that?”

 

“Yeah,” Dean replied without hesitation. “We can do that.”

 

***

 

Dean woke up to find Cas watching him. At first, he found it pretty creepy--who stares at a person while they’re sleeping--but after a few moments of looking at each other, he found himself slowly going weak, his perspective shifting until it was impossible not to find the staring at least a little adorable.

 

“Hey, sleepin’ beauty,” Dean said in a sleep-roughened voice, and Cas laughed a little.

 

“Shouldn’t I be the one calling you that? You slept in until eleven.”

 

“Well, we stayed up pretty late last night,” Dean replied, rolling over onto his back and stretching, hands gripping the headboard above him.

 

So, it was possible when Cas asked Dean to ‘spend more time with him,’ he might have thought it was an innuendo. He might have thought he was going to get some tail. But in the end, he was (pleasantly) surprised to find that when Castiel said, ”I want to spend more time with you,” it meant exactly that. Cas was glaringly dry, but not in the uninteresting way that Dean had always hated. He actually kind of loved Cas’ dryness. He always said what he meant, never really made innuendos, and often wouldn’t see the double meaning to his words, even if there was one.

 

Which led to this fact: when he and Dean arrived at his apartment, Castiel sat on the couch, pulled his legs up, and patted the seat beside him. “Sit,” he nearly ordered, and Dean blinked twice before following the instruction immediately.

 

It would be an extreme understatement to say that Dean and Castiel spent a long time talking. It would be more accurate to explain that they talked about each other to the slightest hair’s breadth, that the only things they kept to themselves were what they were scared to admit to themselves.

 

An even more accurate statement would be that they talked until their mouths were dry and their words didn’t make sense anymore. Somehow they ended up in the bedroom, laying down in the bed, staring up at the ceiling, laughing at everything they said, despite actual humor involved in their talk--or, in some cases, in their silence.

 

They laughed, and they grew quiet, and eventually Dean closed his eyes and found himself drifting. His eyes snapped open and he glanced over at Cas, who was watching him with a soft look in his eyes. “You can sleep,” Castiel murmured, reaching out and taking Dean’s hand, smiling a little. “Don’t deprive yourself of basic human needs, Dean. We can talk more in the morning.”

 

Dean bit his lip and smiled, and instead of kissing Castiel like he wanted to, he squeezed the other man’s hand. He turned on his side and pulled Cas close, who nestled into him. And as cheesy as it is, they drifted off together, in each other’s arms.

 

This brings us to now. With Dean and Castiel staring at each other; with Dean wondering if Cas will ever look away, or if they’ll stay like this forever.

 

“We should get up,” Dean murmured quietly, as sunlight streamed through the curtains, catching Castiel’s eye and making the blue shine like sapphires in the sun, his irises varying shades of azure. Castiel’s eyes were the way the clear blue sky meets the dark blue sea on the horizon. His eyes had depth like the ocean and were bright like the stars.

 

But Dean was getting ahead of himself. He was thinking too deeply about the man’s eyes in front of him and not the way his heart thrummed with the beat of something… something like a ticking timer. He smiled a little at the reminder of who they were--that they were meant for each other, and Dean lifted his hand, brushing back Cas’ hair from his face.

 

“But this is so comfortable,” Castiel whined--still managing to push up into Dean’s touch like a friggin’ cat.

 

“I know,” Dean whispered back, grinning a little. “That’s why we should get up.” At Castiel’s confused look, he laughed a little and continued. “If we stay like this all day, we’ll get used to it. We won’t think it’s so special anymore.”

 

At first, Cas continued to look confused, but then a slow dawning came over his face, and he smiled a little. He came close--so close that Dean could feel his breath fanning across his lips--and breathed, “This will always be special.”

 

And something about that--something about the way Cas said it--gave Dean just the courage he needed to lean up and catch Cas’ lips in a slow kiss. Both had their eyes fluttering closed, and both found themselves slowly losing themselves in the kiss.

 

It was nothing heated, or open-mouthed, with each person involved grasping at the other’s clothes and pulling them closer until they’re so close it’s unsure where one ends and the other begins. That would come later. This was soft, slow, and when they both pulled away, they couldn’t help smiling at each other like a pair of idiots. (Then again, who ever said they weren’t?)

 

“That was…” Dean began, and Cas just shook his head, finishing the sentence.

 

“Nice.”

 

Dean laughed. “It was more than nice, Cas. Unless you didn’t feel the same thing I did.”

 

Cas smirked. “Let’s get up. I’ll make you breakfast.”

 

This time it was Dean who was whining, dropping back against the pillows and letting out a huge, melodramatic sigh. “ _Fine_ ,” he groaned, and although you could tell it was false, there was still a part of Dean that wanted to stay where he was for a long time.

 

“Come on,” the blue-eyed man tried. “We’ll be just like this tomorrow morning. _That’s_ what makes this special, Dean. That we get to live this over and over again. That we both know that no matter what, this is what we’ll be waking up to.”

 

Dean’s lips pulled up into a soft smile, and though he could feel his heart swelling in his chest, and his stomach as a ball of energy, and the grin beginning to stretch his lips wide, he didn’t say what he was thinking. He didn’t explain how good he felt, or how he could feel himself falling in a way that felt like flying--this crash and burn felt more like a soar and glow. He didn’t say that he was falling in love. But that didn’t make it any less true.

 

Castiel didn’t say the exact same thing.

 

But they could see it in each other’s eyes. And that was good enough for now.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always very, very appreciated! I love feedback. :)  
> And just a reminder that comments usually push me further to update faster. Js~


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